


Not Dressed Like That (I Could Be Gay)

by mishmashfandom



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossdressing, Crossdressing Stiles Stilinski, Drag Queens, Halloween, M/M, Misunderstandings, Trans Female Character, pining!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 17:27:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8219179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishmashfandom/pseuds/mishmashfandom
Summary: Stiles sometimes feel as if Derek doesn't notice him on equal standing with the wolves, so when a friend of his suggests dressing up as a girl for Halloween, Stiles figures 'why not?'. If that doesn't get Derek's attention, Stiles might as well just give up.





	

It wasn’t very often that Stiles got to hang out with his ”normal” friends. And by “normal” he meant Damon and Vera; one who frequently dressed in drag to feel confident, the other who had up until sometime last year been named Patrick.

Stiles had met Damon and Vera back when he and Scott had been tracking Jackson the Kanima to a gay club. Stiles hadn’t really expected to keep in touch, especially considering everything else going on in his life at that point (actually considering everything that was _still_ going on in his life), but Damon was sweet and considerate, and he always had time for you, even when he was stressed out of his mind, with just enough of a mischievous streak to make him fun, and Vera was a sarcastic bastard that could rival even Stiles on his best days, but she loved fiercely and proudly and she made you feel wonderful about yourself.

Stiles didn’t get to spend _nearly enough_ time with them.

So when Damon called and asked Stiles over for a pizza-and-movie night, Stiles had jumped at the chance. Nothing was going on at the moment – Beacon Hills was finally quiet, and even if Stiles had learned that it wouldn’t stay like that forever, he’d also learned to cherish when it finally happened.

They’re halfway into El Sexo de los Ángeles when Stiles’ phone beeps.

**From Derek:**

_Pack meeting tomorrow. Be there around 7?_

Stiles can’t help smiling a little, can’t help the small, bubbly feeling spreading through his chest like wildfire.

**To Derek:**

_Sure. Need me to bring something?_

He waits for him to answer for five minutes, can’t help but feel a cold wash of disappointment flush over him when he realizes that Derek isn’t going to. He throws his phone onto the couch and tries to direct his focus back to the movie. Which is of course when Damon decides to be a nosy little bitch.

“Still wanna bang him then?” Damon asks cheekily.

Stiles’ head snaps up to look at his friend, who’s making a truly Oscar worthy impression of the cat that got the canary. He shakes his head.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he answers as casually as he can.

Damon exchanges looks with Vera. “I’ll take that as an enthusiastic ‘yes’ then?”

Stiles’ shoulders slump. “He’s annoying. He always treats me like I’m a freaking kid or something, and he’s so mean to me. I don’t know why I can’t let him go; he’s a huge dick.”

“You know what they say: Gotta have one to be one,” Vera sing-songs.

Both Damon and Stiles laughs. “I bet he does, the jerk,” Stiles snickers.

“So he’s just your type then,” Damon giggles.

“Yeah,” Stiles mumbles, suddenly not finding the joke funny anymore, “It’s just a pity I’m not his.”

An awkward silence follows that statement, one that Vera breaks only a few seconds later with a high pitched, “So, what are you guys dressing up as for Halloween?”

“Vera, it’s August!” Stiles laughs, and the uncomfortable moment passes. Vera looks almost affronted.

“Which is halfway to Halloween! It’s the most important holiday of the year, especially for drag queens,” she explains, arms flailing around her for emphasis.

“Well, I’m not a drag queen,” Stiles answers, playfully shoving Vera in the shoulder.

“Maybe you should be.”

Vera and Stiles simultaneously turn around to stare at Damon; Vera’s look laced with curiosity, Stiles’ with disbelief.

Stiles shakes his head. “I’m sorry; what?”

Damon grabs his arm. “Think about it! Everybody always says so- you’d make a gorgeous queen! It’d be perfect for Halloween! Plus, I’d bet it’d really get your Derek’s attention – we’d make you impossible to ignore.”

Stiles thinks about it for a moment. Thinks about all the time people pass him over to look at Scott. About Lydia never even giving him a chance. About always being the ugly duckling in a pack of beautiful wolves. His thoughts linger on Derek; how he never seems to even notice him. Well. He’d just have to change that, wouldn’t he?

“Can I still wear a costume?” he asks.

His answer is being tackled to the floor by his screaming friends.

*****

They start discussing costumes immediately. At first Stiles suggests Catwoman, because if he’s going to dress up as a girl in a costume, he better look fucking sexy doing it. Damon wrinkles his nose at the suggestion, as if Stiles had said something particularly distasteful.

Vera is shaking her head too. “Catwoman is so unoriginal, Sti. Plus, what would Dae and I be; Batman and Joker? I think not.”

Thinking in group terms narrow their creativity quite a bit. Vera suggests a gender-bend Golden Trio cosplay, which Stiles thinks is pretty cool, but not exactly sexy, and Damon suggests they dress up as the Powerpuff Girls, which Vera and Stiles don’t even justify with a response.

In the end, it’s Damon’s pathetic cry of “Argh, I feel like my brain has _failed this city_!” that lights the spark.

Stiles eyes fly open. “Arrow!” he yells.

“Oh my God! Best. Idea. _Ever_ ,” Vera squeals excitedly.  “Just think about it: I’ll be the fabulously sexy, yet extremely intelligent super hacker Felicity Smoak,” she pulls down imaginary glasses and makes a pouty face at Damon, who chuckles and picks up the gauntlet he’s been thrown.

“I’ll be wearing platinum blonde and black, black baby; cause Black Canary’s gonna be in the house!” He punctuates his words by pretending to flip his hair while punching an invisible enemy.

Stiles just sits there soaking it all up for a few seconds, a strangely warm feeling spreading through him. Last year he’d expected to do his costume with Scott like they did every year, only to be blown off last minute for couple’s costumes with Allison. No doubt this year Scott will be doing the same with Kira. Sitting here with Damon and Vera, getting psyched about their Halloween costumes in freaking August… It makes him feel wanted and included. It’s nice being someone’s first choice for once.

“That all sounds well and good,” he starts, a shit-eating grin rapidly taking over his face, “but you’re both gonna have to bow down to the Queen. I fucking _dare_ Derek to ignore me whilst I’m wearing skintight red leather.”

Vera wolf-whistles and Damon nods his approval.

“This,” Vera declares solemnly, “is going to be _awesome_!”

*****

They prepare for months.

The pack doesn’t understand why Stiles keeps blowing them off to go shopping or do “nothing that is in any way, shape or form your business!” weekend after weekend.

The wounded look on Scott’s face almost breaks Stiles’ resolve, but then he catches a glimpse of an extremely confused and put out looking Derek in the background, and he feels his determination harden. He _will_ get Derek to notice him on equal ground with the rest of the pack, and he can’t do that if he doesn’t put in a little hard work. Perfection doesn’t come without a price after all.

Despite his pack being almost constantly annoyed with him, Stiles has a brilliant time with Damon and Vera. They spend endless hours in Vera’s one room flat designing their costumes (okay, Vera and Damon design the costumes, Stiles googles images of their respective characters and brings snacks).

Once the designs and measurements are done, they start hunting for materials and props to make it all come alive. They spend an entire weekend in Eastvale tearing through sex shops and Halloween stores and that one small drag shop that Damon swears by. Stiles returns Sunday evening with a perfect brown wig, a bow and quiver full of arrows that they’re going to spray-paint red, and a pair of old, black Dr. Martens boots from a thrift shop that Stiles won’t mind spray-painting to look like Thea’s does in the show.

It’s tough on the wallet, and Stiles suddenly understands why drag queens start fussing about Halloween months in advance; buying all the stuff that’s needed for one costume is virtually impossible unless your last name is Whittemore. Not even to mention the designing, the searching for perfect (and cheap) materials, and the sewing.

The sewing is quite possibly Stiles’ least favorite part.

But then, all of a sudden, two weeks before Halloween, they’re done. They spend the remaining time altering between videogames, an Arrow marathon, and makeup test runs, the last one which Stiles thinks he might enjoy a little too much.

*****

The day before the big Halloween party at Jungle is spend waxing off whatever little beard Stiles has been able to grow, as well as tweaking and clipping his eyebrows into perfect shapes. Vera and Damon each shave one of his arms as well as his chest, and by the time he’s done Stiles can’t help but feel pretty bare and vulnerable.

He’s also pretty glad that Halloween falls on a Saturday this year, because if anybody at school had to see his eyebrows right now, the jig would be up right away.

He tells Scott that he’s arriving with the two friends he’s been hanging out with so much, and that he wants to introduce them to everybody, so they should just meet at the club.

Scott seems relieved that Stiles is finally including him in his – quote – “new life” – end quote, and Stiles feels kind of terrible that Scott’s apparently been feeling so abandoned. He makes a vow to himself then and there to schedule in more Scott-and-Stiles-quality-time ASAP.

After he’s made Derek beg for his ass, of course.

*****

Getting ready with Vera and Damon is 100 % pure awesome. They have a strict no-drink-before-makeup and-wigs-rule, and no drinks at all for Vera, who’s voted herself designated driver.

(“I can’t really drink on my meds anyways,” she’d said with a shrug, and when Stiles had expressed his regret on her behalf, she’d just replied with a sunny, “I’d rather be in my true body and stone cold sober, than sloshing drunk in a body that made me wanna puke on a near daily basis.” And that’d been that.)

They pump the party playlist all the way up, and Stiles is told (repeatedly) to sit still while Damon puts primer, foundation and concealer on his face before starting in on contouring and highlighting. Damon’s job is finished with tons of setting powder and a fair amount of bronzer and blush and then he’s handing Stiles over to Vera.

Vera draws up his eyebrows and fills them in, puts on his mascara and eyeliner, and works for almost fifteen whole minutes on getting his eyeshadow just right. Then it’s a soft, almost magenta pink lipstick, and he’s done.

He’s been refused access to the mirror before he’s in both his costume and wig, so he quickly dresses; or as quickly as you can, when your outfit is made out of leather with about a thousand buckles and even more straps and strings to pull on and tie. Stiles isn’t able to put the wig on himself (due to the lack of access to the mirror), so Damon gives him a hand.

(“I’m baking anyways,” he says cheerily.

“What the actual fuck,” Stiles mumbles.)

When he’s finally given permission to look at himself by an excited Vera, it takes him a moment to register what he’s seeing.

There’s no lanky, easily ignored boy staring back at him; instead there are gorgeously defined angles framed by light brown hair and smoldering eyes. There are hips, and boobs, and a great ass covered in tight red and black leather. Stiles can’t help but reach up and touch his face; can’t help dragging fingers lightly down his cheeks and down to his mouth, where his lips stand out pink and plump and almost obscene. His hands wander further down over his bare throat that looks extra pale against the stark red of the top, further down to his boobs (it gives him a bit of a chill, seeing how well they look on him, how they got the size just right for his build; not huge, but big enough to give him a nice cleavage to stare at through the see-through laced up part of the top. _Definitely_ big enough to catch a few eyes), until they finally settle on his hips, his hands slowly caressing the added breadth there. He twists his lower body a little; just enough to be able to admire the way the leather pants cling to his ass (which had needed no extra padding, to the great enjoyment of both Vera and Damon).

Stiles doesn’t just look hot; he looks breathtaking. It’s the first time in a long time that he likes – no, _loves_ -what he sees in the mirror, and for maybe the first time ever he feels truly beautiful. It’s euphoric; Stiles can literally _feel_ layers of superbly hidden insecurities that have built up over years and years just peel right off of him.

He can’t tear his eyes away. “You guys…” he starts, doesn’t know how to finish, can’t find the words.

Vera walks over to stand behind him, a pleased smile on her face. “You like?” she probes, and Stiles giggles undignified and a little hysteric. He’s trying extremely hard to not let any tears fall; his friends would absolutely kill him, which would kind of ruin the big ass moment Stiles is having right now.

“Like? Vera I… Thank you. Both of you. Even if tonight is a total bust on the boy-front, I’ll have this. So just… Thank you. I love it.”

A face that might once have been Damon’s, but now belongs to a beautifully sculpted young woman with insane eyelashes framed by perfect smokey-eyes, and lips so dark they’re practically black, appears in the mirror on the other side of Stiles.

“Dude,” he grins, “We’re so fucking hot, I kind of want to sleep with all of us. So if boy-front really is a bust tonight, can we please, _please_ orgy?”

Vera doubles over laughing as Stiles licks his lips and says, “Only if we can do it in costumes, because otherwise _missed opportunity_.”

“Oh my God,” she cries between sobs of laughter, “this is totes ruining my makeup, you guys suck.”

“Only each other,” Stiles quips, and Vera doubles over again as Damon drops his powder brush to rush over and high five Stiles.

Yeah. Tonight is going to be awesome.

*****

Once every few months Jungle hosts the so called “mixed nights”, meaning everyone is allowed in.

(“Do they usually check your sexuality? Like do you have to make out with the bouncer to prove your gayness or…?”

 “Stiles? Stop talking.”)

Stiles had actually been spared trying to explain to his friends why he was so eager to go to a gay club for Halloween by the wonder that is Mason Hewitt. All Mason had to do was suggest they all meet up at Jungle for what was rumored to be their best Halloween party in _years_ , and everybody was in. Stiles had stealthily questioned Scott whether or not Derek would be joining them, which Scott had happily confirmed.

Thinking back on it now, Stiles thanks the gods for Mason, as well as the ever growing trust and friendship between Scott and Derek, for without them tonight would have been impossible (and stealing one more glance at his ass in the mirror, Stiles can’t help think that that would have been a goddamn _tragedy_ ).

Vera is running around in just her skirt and heels, desperately looking for the white blouse with black dots on it that she’d bought for her Felicity costume, when Stiles’ phone beeps.

**From Scott:**

_At Jungle now. Should we wait outside or go in?_

A loud crash resonates through the small bedroom, followed shortly by Vera’s victorious, “Found it!”, and Stiles writes “ _Nah bro, we’ll find you inside_ ” before getting up to help Damon buckle all of the clasps on his legs (there are _loads_ ; Laurel Lance must be a fucking _master_ to be able to get in costume as fast as she does).

When they’re finally ready, they all pile into Stiles’ jeep: Damon in the back, Stiles riding shotgun, Vera behind the wheels, and they all scream along to Dawin’s “Dessert” when the radio station plays it. They’re beyond pumped by the time they get to Jungle, so much that Stiles almost forgets to be nervous.

Being the Sheriff’s son and all, he’s used to people busting his fake ID all the time, but tonight the bouncer barely even looks at it, too busy giving Stiles a once over and a wink, and then they’re in.

Finding Scott and the others may be a little more complicated than Stiles originally thought; it looks like every young(ish, in some people’s cases) person from Beacon Hills has decided to show up tonight. Mason was right; it really does seem to be the Halloween party of the decade.

As it turns out, Stiles doesn’t need to find Scott; having a werewolf best friend has its perks, one of them being the other’s ability to sniff you out even in an overcrowded club.

It’s a little hilarious when Scott walks straight past him, but then again, Stiles probably wouldn’t be able to recognize Stiles right now. Still, it’s pretty damn funny to watch Scott twist and turn, knowing he has Stiles’ scent, but not being able to find him. It isn’t before Scott is facing him directly, almost staring right at him, that Stiles takes pity on him, taking his red hood off and waving his hand in Scott’s face.

(He and Vera had decided to go without the red leather mask that Thea always wears as Speedy, because it probably would have gotten too hot and annoying throughout the night, ruining his make-up and such.

“You just don’t wanna take focus from his gigantic doe-eyes in all their sexy come-hither glory,” Damon had accused, and Vera had thrown a pillow in his face as retaliation.

He was right of course, but that was beside the point.)

“Stiles?” Scott asks, his tone obviously confused, but also laced with something a lot like wonder.

Stiles is just about to gloat a little when Scott whines, “Jesus, not you too! Is crossdressing a theme that nobody told me about or something?”

Stiles must look pretty insulted, because Scott hastens to add, “Not that you don’t look amazing! Because, holy shit! I mean, you’re definitely the best costume from the group, just…”

“Just…?” comes a questioning drawl from Stiles’ right. Vera’s arms are crossed over her chest and she’s giving Scott a serious case of the death glare, making Scott look nervously at Stiles.

Stiles gives him a ‘I-would-also-just-love-an-explanation-that-actually-made-sense’ look, which makes Scott release an anxious chuckle.

“It makes better sense when you see it. Everyone is at the bar, follow me.”

He starts weaving his way through the crowd, giving Stiles and co. no choice but to follow if they don’t want to lose sight of him.

“Who is that moron?” Vera hisses. “That better not be Derek, because I swear to God, Stiles, you could do _so much_ better than him.”

That thought of Stiles being too good to date Scott startles a laugh out of him, even if he’s quick to reassure Vera that Scott is just his best friend, who suffers terribly from foot-in-mouth disease. It only seems to appease her a little.

They’ve finally made their way to the bar, where the entire pack is gapingly staring at Stiles, as if he’s grown a really hot second head. Stiles smirks.

“Hey guys, this is Vera-“ Vera smiles and curtseys, “and Damon-“ Damon gives a small wave, and Stiles abruptly remembers how shy Damon actually is, especially around new people.

“Oh my God, are you guys the badass bitches from Arrow?” Kira gasps excitedly, and just like that the underlying tension that’s been filling the air is gone.

“Guys meet Kira,” Stiles says and Kira’s sunny smile and wave clash pretty violently with her Catwoman getup. “Lydia’s the one in the witch costume; Mason’s… are you Rocky Horror? That’s awesome! Anyway, Liam is the zombie lacrosse player, and to his left we have Malia who is dressed as… what are you dressed as?”

 “I’m a homicidal maniac,” she deadpans. “They look just like everyone else.”

Everyone is silent for a beat before cracking up. Vera and Damon are a little confused, but fuck it if Stiles is ever going to be able to explain to them why exactly Malia’s choice of “costume” is so. Fucking. Hilarious.

“And you already met Scott,” Stiles says when he’s done laughing about a minute later.  Scott beams at them from under his Batman mask, and Stiles can’t help but agree with something Vera said weeks ago: dressing up as Batman and Catwoman really is kind of unoriginal and tacky, and Stiles silently thanks his friends for shooting that idea down.

“Aren’t you missing someone, Sti?” Damon asks, and Stiles suddenly realizes that yes, yes he is.

Derek is nowhere to be found.

“Um. Where’s –“ he starts, but Lydia, having seemingly followed his train of thought, suddenly moves from her place against the bar, revealing…

“Derek?!” Stiles squeaks.

Derek covers his face with his hands. Stiles gapes. The rest of the pack is grinning, and Liam even wolf-whistles.

“Well,” Damon says conversationally, “this certainly is a turn of events we didn’t see coming.”

Derek is dressed up in a Little Red Riding Hood costume; no, a _sexy_ Little Red Riding Hood costume. The kind girls wear on Halloween when they feel like being a little slutty. The outfit consists of a frilly, white blouse with puffed sleeves covered mostly by a black corset with the bindings in white on the front, and ending in a dark red skirt with a white frilly hem ending a little above the knee.  Derek also has on a long, dark red cape with the hood up (Stiles is getting the vibe that Derek is wishing for the hood to swallow him whole), as well as black fishnet stockings and… sneakers. Taking another once over, it’s quite clear that while Derek is wearing the outfit (and is he ever wearing it, Stiles mind supplies appreciatingly), it’s obviously with reluctance. He hasn’t shaved anywhere, he’s not wearing a wig or make-up, and looking closer, Stiles can see that Derek hasn’t even bothered to fill out the costume where boobs should have been. All in all it’s kind of half-assed, but it couldn’t have made less of a difference; it’s _Derek_. He’ll always be hotter than everyone around him, which is saying a lot considering the company he keeps. Take that and put it in a sexy Halloween costume, and Stiles’ brain is basically melting out of his ears.

“ _That’s_ Derek?” Vera is asking disbelieving.

“Guuuuuuurl,” Damon whispers under his breath, completely certain in his knowledge that only he and Stiles will be able to hear it. Too bad that almost all of Stiles’ friends have super hearing that Damon isn’t aware of. Stiles feels himself blush, and jabs his elbow into Damon’s side as revenge.

“See?” Scott says. “Crossdressing!”

Derek lifts his face from his hands only to glare at Scott darkly. Scott just shrugs and says, “What? You are!”

Stiles must have downed his pre-party drinks a little too fast, because he swears he thought he saw Derek blush. Shaking off the shock and trying desperately to get back in the zone, Stiles turns to the bartender to get a drink.

The bartender doesn’t even look at his ID, he just gives Stiles the dirtiest once over he’s ever seen and curves his mouth in a lecherous smirk. When his drink gets there not thirty seconds later, it’s standing on a napkin with _I get off at one, wanna get off too?_ written on it, and Stiles sputters and blushes to the roots of his hair (wig, whatever).

Damon takes a look at the napkin and promptly starts laughing, which of course means that everyone else wants to look as well. It’s embarrassing, but at the same time Stiles feels hot and desired and now all of the pack knows it too; tonight _Stiles_ is the hot girl.

“Not that it’s not a really good look on you, Stiles, I’ll have to agree with Creepy Bartender on that one, but why exactly are you dressed as a girl?” Lydia asks and Stiles takes a moment to preen a little at the compliment before answering.

“That would be our fault,” Damon pipes up, bless his heart.

“Damon and I used to do drag together,” Vera clarifies. “People are always fawning over Sti, trying to get him into the world when we bring him along, so we thought tonight would be a good compromise.”

She’s perfectly steady in her tone and body language as she explains, and Stiles _loves_ his friends. Mission: Get Derek To Notice How Hot Stiles Is, Shouldn’t You Be Doing That? is going _splendidly_.

“The real question is why are _you_ ,” he points to Derek, “dressed like that? I mean _Little Red Riding Hood_? Come on!”

Derek turns to Lydia and gives her his ‘this-is-completely-your-fault-and-we-all-know-it’ glare. Stiles knows that glare a little too well, having been on the receiving end of it more times than he can count. Lydia seems to just bask in it.

“A bet is a bet is a bet, Derek dearest. Wanna tell Stiles all about it?”

Derek’s glare takes on a murderous glint. “No,” he bites out, and Stiles once again finds himself secluded from Derek’s (apparently slightly bigger now) circle of trust. It hits him like a punch in the gut and suddenly he’s so angry; at Derek, for not giving a shit about Stiles; at himself for making himself believe that showing up like this tonight would change anything. The anger sits high in his throat and Stiles furiously notes that he can feel tears gathering in his eyes.

He’s not the only one who’s noticed, because suddenly there’s a hand on his arm, and Vera’s, “Well, tough luck bro! Ooh, I love this song!” brings him out of his thoughts and self-hatred. Damon is the owner of the hand, and he’s dragging Stiles with him towards the dancefloor, Vera hot on their heels.

“Fuck that guy!” Damon shouts over the music. “If he doesn’t see how fucking great you are, then that’s his goddamn loss!”

The anger in Stiles’ chest is still bubbling hot, and suddenly he doesn’t care that Derek can probably hear everything they’re saying. He doesn’t care if Derek learns about his pathetic crush on him, because Stiles is over it.

“Yeah,” he says, and then louder, “you know what? Yeah. _Fuck_ that guy!”

“Don’t let him ruin your night!” Vera shouts. “There are plenty of wolves in the woods, and if Little Red doesn’t wanna step outside the path, then you’ll just have to give someone else a go!”

It’s hilarious; Derek’s costume is a fucking metaphor now and Vera doesn’t even know it. Stiles doesn’t give a shit.

A tall guy dressed as a sexy firefighter makes ‘come-here’ fingers at Stiles from the middle of the dancefloor. “Like that guy?” Stiles asks.

Vera follows his look to Sexy Firefighter and laughs, “Yeah, _exactly_ like that guy!”

And so Stiles slides up to Sexy Firefighter and starts dancing, because he came here to have a good time, and no-one is going to get in the way of that; least of all Stiles himself.

*****

Stiles moved on from Sexy Firefighter pretty quickly, when he turned out to be more of a Nasty Firefighter. Seriously, that guy’s hands had been everywhere, and Stiles had not been appreciating it.

He is now dancing with a guy dressed as Aladdin, and is very much appreciating _his_ hands sliding up and down Stiles’ sides, when a howl rings through the club. At first Stiles thinks it’s one of his wolves, but the howl is immediately followed by music and a raspy male voice singing about Little Red Riding Hood, who is looking _good_. His thoughts return to Derek for a split second, at the same time as someone slides their hands onto his hips from behind him.

When Stiles turns to look who it is over his shoulder, he’s surprised to find Derek frowning at him like it’s somehow Stiles’ fault that Derek’s hands are around his waist, and that he’s grinding his hips into Stiles’ ass.

(Which WHAT THE FUCK, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK)

Aladdin looks a little annoyed and a little intimidated, but he keeps on dancing with Stiles anyways, trying to get him away from Derek. That lasts until Derek straight up growls at him, and Aladdin gives Stiles a last lingering look before scuttling through the crowd towards the bar.

Stiles can hear Derek’s satisfied purr behind him, as he’s dragged closer to the older man. They’re straight up grinding on each other now, and Stiles can’t help but throw his head back onto Derek’s shoulder. Derek apparently takes that as consent to go to town on Stiles neck, and Stiles moans aloud before catching himself.

“What… What are you doing?” Stiles gasps out, and it’s incredibly satisfying to know that Derek will be able to hear him even over the music.

Derek doesn’t answer though, just tilts his head up and catches Stiles’ earlobe between his teeth. He proceeds to tug and suck on it until Stiles is withering in front of him, completely turned on and wanton.

“Derek?” he moans and Derek reluctantly pulls back, but not before blowing softly on the newly abused lobe.

“You should see yourself, Stiles,” Derek whispers in his ear and Stiles shivers violently at the contact. “You’ve always been so beautiful, there’s no need for all of this-“ he drags a finger down the side of Stiles face and Stiles has to close his eyes; it feels so intimate somehow. Paired with Derek’s words, Stiles feels himself blush and something a lot like hope blooms in his chest.

“Maybe I just wanted to?” he mutters, turning his head slightly so his cheekbone is pressed softly against Derek’s lips.

“Maybe you did it to get my attention,” Derek whispers back and Stiles stiffens in his arms. So Derek _had_ heard his conversation with Damon and Vera earlier.

“And what, you’re gonna pretend you don’t like it?” Stiles hisses. “’Cause let me tell you something buddy, that’s not going very well.” While he speaks, he sneaks a hand behind himself, cupping and squeezing Derek’s very prominent erection.

Derek groans deep and low and right into his ear, causing Stiles to smirk. The smugness only lasts till Derek grabs his hips more forcefully and grinds said erection into Stiles’ leather clad ass.

“Trust me, I like it,” Derek grumbles against Stiles cheek, and it suddenly crosses Stiles’ mind that he might not leave alone tonight. Judging by the way Derek is grinding into him and sucking on his neck he’s pretty into it, perhaps so into it that he’ll take Stiles home and fuck him. The thought has Stiles body lit on fire and his dick aches from where it lies ignored in his trousers.

“I just… I’m not attracted to you _because_ of this costume, Stiles,” Derek says. “I was attracted to you already; the costume is just a bonus.”

Stiles’ mouth is hanging open, and he hurries to close it once he realizes, but it’s too late; Derek’s already noticed, judging by his chuckle.

“But you! I…” Stiles starts to protest, but then Derek’s spinning him around, and for the first time since the conversation started, they’re face to face. It’s kind of unnerving; Stiles can still feel Derek’s erection pressed up against his thigh, is sure Derek can feel his answering hardness against his own, but Derek’s eyes stay soft and searching.

“I was going to ask you out,” he says, making Stiles’ eyes snap up to meet Derek’s hazel brown ones.

For the second time tonight Derek blushes and looks down. “That was the bet,” he clarifies. “To ask you out. Lydia said I was too much of a wimp to do it, I told her I wasn’t afraid of a teenage boy. But then…”

“But then?”

“Then you started smelling of some other guy, and you were suddenly so happy all the time, and you stopped coming to pack meetings except for when you absolutely couldn’t get around it, and I just. I lost courage.” At this Derek looks up at Stiles from under his lashes.

“It wasn’t like that,” Stiles whispers, cupping Derek’s face in his hands and willing him to sense the truth in his statement.

“I know,” Derek says with a smile. “I chickened out. That was my first mistake.”

“First?”

“Mmhm,” Derek agrees. “My second mistake was not asking you to dance the minute you stepped up to that bar.”

Stiles smirks. “Well you can start making up for that second one right now.”

Dancing with Derek just minutes prior had felt amazing, but dancing with Derek now, when the air has been cleared and Stiles knows that he’s allowed to look and touch as much as he wants, it’s as fun as it’s sexy. Before it had felt like Derek might slip through his fingers if he made a small mistake; if he didn’t swing his hips the right way or tilt his neck just right, but now that he knows that Derek’s into him it’s so different. Liberating, really. Stiles can just be himself, his own seductive combination of sex bomb and awkward white boy.

It must be working for Derek though, because he’s laughing and smiling as he twirls Stiles around the floor, but when he pulls Stiles close so they’re once again standing back to front, Stiles can feel that Derek’s still hard.

They have been on the receiving end of thinly veiled stares ever since they started dancing (ever since Derek made a scene, Stiles thinks fondly), but now a lot of people are openly just staring at them, confusion and envy mingling on their faces. Stiles figures they must be quite the sight; he does, for all intends and purposes, look like a girl, who’s grinding up on a man in a slutty Little Red Riding Hood costume. Stiles can’t quite contain the giggle that emerges at the thought. Derek gives him a questioning look.

Instead of answering, Stiles pulls Derek closer, close enough to whisper, “Do you want to get out of here?” in his ear.

To Stiles immense delight, Derek’s nodding before he can even finish his question.

“Yes,” he says with yet another nod. “Hell yes. I’ve been ready to get out of here since you bent over to get your drink earlier.”

Something warm and comfortable that Stiles supposes must be confidence flows through his body at Derek’s proclamation. It’s not that Stiles doesn’t know how A+ foxy he looks right now, but it’s one thing knowing it, and quite another to have your long term crush tell you to your face whilst in the midst of taking you home. It gives Stiles the courage to reach for Derek’s hand, gives him a little extra sway in his hips as he drags him through the crowd. It doesn’t give him the strength to graciously accept Liam’s catcalls, Scott’s high five or Lydia’s smug expression, which he returns by sticking his tongue out at the lot of them behind Derek’s back.

He does however stop long enough to give Damon and Vera thumbs up through the crowd. Vera breaks out her sunniest smile and gives him thumbs up back, and Damon just laughs and mouths ‘orgy’, which Stiles resolutely ignores.

He doesn’t need an orgy; he’s pulled Derek fucking Hale.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from anon: Do you think you could write a sterek were Derek is slutty little red riding hood and Stiles is dressed as a girl and they just confuse the people more and more and as they get dirty in the dance floor.
> 
> I know I was prompted last year, which is where the idea for this originally blossomed, but I didn't finish before Halloween, and then I felt sort of silly writing it. BUT I finished it this year in time for Halloween! So if you see this anon, I sincerely hope you like it :)
> 
> As always betaed by the wonderful Camilla; thanks for the help and support, my love xx


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